


The Way I Do

by Green_Eyed_Dragon_Fanfiction



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Rome!AU, Visigothi!reader, barbarian!reader, centurion!bucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-03-23 15:50:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13790994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_Eyed_Dragon_Fanfiction/pseuds/Green_Eyed_Dragon_Fanfiction
Summary: When your people fled the Huns into the lands of the Roman Empire, they’d been welcomed at first. However, the Roman governors quickly turned their backs on your people, treating them as second class citizens and even as criminals. Civil unrest spread quickly and it was only a matter of time until a rebellion broke out. Now, with whispers of a centurion on the way to quell the uprising, you set off deep into Roman territory as a spy, leaving your people behind in the hopes that you’ll be able to destabilize their army. You don’t go alone, though. You’re accompanied by a small group of people, including a few locals who’ve adopted your people’s way and a few from your tribe.Can you and your ragtag band of misfits stop the march of Centurion Bucky’s soldiers before he reaches your people? What will happen when you finally meet the feared warrior of the Roman Army? The answers to these questions and more await in The Way I Do.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Bishop Briggs' The Way I Do for killmongerdreams' song roulette writing challenge on Tumblr.  
> No one's actually related by blood (except Wanda and Pietro, of course). They just grew up together.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s trouble on the border, and the chieftain calls all of your people’s leaders together for a meeting… in your village. In your farther’s house, to be more specific. You can’t fathom why, but it all becomes clear very quickly (with the aid of some eavesdropping).  
> You’re going to Rome for asylum, and you’re none too happy about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: None as of yet  
> A/N: For @killmongerdreams‘ song roulette writing challenge.  
> They’re not actually related. The twins are adopted. Natasha grew up with reader.

[Originally posted by stereocolours](https://tmblr.co/ZXRN6u2BG2xX7)

**376 AD - A Thervingi settlement along the Dniester River**

You ran down the dirt road, skirts whipping behind you in the breeze. Your feet thudded heavily on the packed dirt and you weren’t surprised when two more sets of footsteps accompanied yours. 

“Where are you headed, Big Sis?” Pietro asked. You glanced at him and fought back a groan. He looked almost bored as he jogged lazily next to you. You looked to your other side and, sure enough, Wanda was running next to you. It was a small consolation that she seemed to be having just as much trouble as you. 

“You didn’t hear?” you panted, a wave of relief rushing over you as your family’s house came into view around the bend. “The leaders are all gathering today!” you explained.

“All of them? That’s unheard of!” Wanda said, eyes wide.

“Yeah, they normally try to kill each other the moment they’re in a room together,” Pietro chimed in, grim smile on his face.

“Yes, well, a few of the outer settlements have spotted Hun activity on the border. Apparently all it takes to get them to cooperate is total annihilation,” you said with a glower. You slowed down to a walk now that you were nearing the house. You weren’t exactly sure why they’d chosen your village. It wasn’t the biggest; hell, it wasn’t even the most secure. The only thing it had going for it was that it was close to Rome’s trade routes.

Pietro scoffed. “We can take the Huns,” he said cockily, earning an eye roll from you and a sigh from his sister. 

“They’ve already defeated the Greuthungi. Father and the other leaders are worried we’ll be next.”

Pietro wasn’t so convinced, though. “The Greuthungi were weak. We’re much stronger. There are more of us and we’ve always been wealthier.”

Wanda smacked her brother’s arm lightly and he gasped at her in mock hurt. “They were _not_ weak, Pietro. And we’re farmers. Not soldiers. The Hun army will devastate our people if they decide to attack.” 

Pietro opened his mouth to spew what was undoubtedly well-rehearsed rhetoric, but a new voice cut through your conversation before he could. “You should listen to your sister, Pietro. She’s right.”

All three of you turned to look at the newcomer, your faces lighting up when you spotted the bright red head of hair.

“Natalia!” Wanda and Pietro cheered excitedly in unison. Pietro practically leapt into her arms and Wanda settled for wrapping her arms around the both of them. You smiled happily at her over Pietro’s shoulder and she returned it in kind.

However, the blessed silence was doomed to end; it never lasted when Pietro was around. 

“What do you mean she’s right? Natalia, you fought in the war! You killed dozens of Roman soldiers!” he said, looking a bit betrayed. 

“And we lost that war, Pietro,” Natasha said solemnly. 

Pietro’s frowned only deepened. “That was years ago, though. We could-”

“Enough, Pietro,” you said, tone gentle but hard enough that he knew it was the end of that conversation. “My father and the other leaders will decide what we do next. We’d best be ready for whatever that decision may be.”

Natasha smiled at that and you couldn’t help but grin. You knew that smirk all too well. “Want to listen in?” 

All three of you glanced at each other mischievously and nodded.

“Follow me, then.”

* * *

Natasha had to physically hold you back. 

“No, sister!” she hissed, hoping no one had heard their scuffle. 

“They want to go to the Romans for refuge! The Romans! After all they did to us just four years ago! The Greuthungi may have taken the bulk of the damage, but some of out people died, too!” you raged, practically frothing at the mouth as Natalia dragged you away from your house. 

Pietro seemed just as upset as you, but Wanda was keeping him calm as the four of you moved further and further away. 

“I know, (Y/N). I know. I’m not happy about it, either, but what choice do we have?” Natalia reasoned, trying her best to calm you.

“I’d rather stand and fight the Hun army than seek asylum from Emperor Augustus Pierce!” you spat.

Natalia took your head between her hands and you stopped twitching just enough to stare into her deep green eyes. “You would condemn your people for the sake of your pride?” she asked, disappointed frown on her face.

 You let out a frustrated groan and sat down in the grass, your head thrown between your hands. “I would save our people from a slow death under Roman rule. They are monsters, the lot of them. We are fools to think they’ll truly aid us.”

Wanda sat down next to you and took one of your hands in her own, lacing your fingers together carefully. You looked up into her grey-green eyes and she smiled at you. “We don’t know that for sure. Is it not better to take the risk than face assured destruction?” 

You sighed and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “When did you get so smart, little sister?” you asked with a wry grin.

“Since I had to start looking after my stupid brother.”

“Oi!” Pietro said, obviously offended. 

You, Natalia, and Wanda burst into laughter. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. You could make it through anything if you had these three by your side. 

* * *

The leaders emerged from your home a while later, all looking grim but determined. Your chief- Nicholas Fritigern- had lost an eye in the war, but he looked even scarier now in your personal opinion. 

You expected him to walk past the four of you, so it was a surprise when he stopped, single dark eye staring at your unwaveringly. 

You stood and curtsied, afraid as to what you’d done to offend him. 

Wanda did the same and you saw Pietro bow out of the corner of you eye. 

“Natalia,” he said, voice commanding and deep.

“Yes, chief Fritigern?” she asked subserviently; it wasn’t a tone you were used to hearing from her. 

“Train these three. I want them well versed in Roman culture and language by the time we cross the border.”

Natalia nodded. “As you say, sir.” 

To your surprise, he cracked a smile. “You’re (Y/L/N)’s kids, right?” 

You nodded quickly, but Wanda spoke up hesitantly. “The lord of the house took us in after our parents died… we are not technically his.” 

You frowned. “Nonsense, Wanda. You’re my siblings and you always will be, blood be damned.”

Chief Nick nodded. “Well put. See to it you study well. It may save your life. You’ll need to be able to pass this information on to others as well. I won’t have us walking into the Roman empire blind.”

At this, all three of you nodded in agreement. “We will, sir.” Even Pietro nodded diligently. 

“Good. The delegation leaves for Byzantium in three days. And you’re all coming with me.”

Wanda blanched and even Pietro looked a little taken aback, though he recovered quickly. Natalia looked grave and you… you felt anxiety and anger course through your veins in equal measure.

“As you say, sir.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You, Natalia, Pietro, and Wanda accompany high chief Nick Fritigern and a few other leaders (including your father) to the Roman capital of Byzantium to ask for asylum from their Emperor, Augustus Pierce. You explore the city, but run into trouble almost immediately only to be saved by a mysterious man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: None as of yet  
> A/N: For @killmongerdreams‘ song roulette writing challenge.

[Originally posted by dressageworld](https://tmblr.co/ZqXmHn2RNKoNp)

_Chief Nick nodded. “Well put. See to it you study well. It may save your life. You’ll need to be able to pass this information on to others as well. I won’t have us walking into the Roman empire blind.”_

_At this, all three of you nodded in agreement. “We will, sir.” Even Pietro nodded diligently.  
_

_“Good. The delegation leaves for Byzantium in three days. And you’re all coming with me.”_

_Wanda blanched and even Pietro looked a little taken aback, though he recovered quickly. Natalia looked grave and you… you felt anxiety and anger course through your veins in equal measure._

_“As you say, sir.”_

* * *

The next two days saw you, Pietro, and Wanda cooped up in your house being tutored mercilessly by Natalia. You knew a little of Roman culture, and what you did know didn’t endear them to you in the least. As it turned out, learning about their society didn’t really paint them in a better light in your eyes. They were still as despicable as before, except now you knew the many layers of despicable. 

The third day was spent packing, although Natalia still somehow found room to school the three of you on marriage customs.

“Cum manu,” Natalia said, popping into the doorway of your room. You jumped at her sudden appearance and turned to glare at her, but she only stared at you expectantly.

You sighed. “When the wife is placed under legal control of the husband in marriage.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Sine manu?” 

You crossed your arms and stared at her. “When the wife is still under legal control of her father even after marriage.”

She shot you a satisfied smile and scampered away, likely going to grill Wanda or Pietro next. 

You didn’t see her again until all of your things were loaded on the wagon and you’d already finished putting the cart harness on your horse. 

“Plebeians!” she said, head popping up over your horse’s back. You jumped and so did your horse and you glared at the redhead. 

“Stop doing that!” you chastised. “You’re going to give Holden a heart attack. He’s too old for your shenanigans.” 

Natalia looked contrite and patted the old horse affectionately. “Sorry, old boy. I didn’t mean it,” she said fondly as she picked at the knots in his mane. 

You rolled your eyes at her fussing. “Plebeians are people who live in the Roman Empire but don’t have citizenship. By Roman legal perspective, they don’t exist. They have no rights. To work, they must sign away their lives and everything they own would henceforth be owned by the family that signed them.”

Natalia nodded, giving you a smile before she scampered off again. 

“We’re leaving soon, you know! Have you even packed yet?” you called after her.

She merely waved off your concerns and you sighed in exasperation. To your dismay you saw that she’d managed to weave at least five braids into his mane in the short amount of time she’d been standing there. You groaned and set to work on undoing them before they became dreads.

* * *

The loud whinny from Holden clued you into the approaching person before the sound of hooves did. You looked up from your bag, head swiveling in search of the newcomer. 

You grinned when you spotted Clinton turn down the road, his old plow horse Darius following dutifully behind him. That horse loved him so much he didn’t even need a lead. 

The moment Darius heard Holden’s cry, he returned it, earning a chuckle from Clinton. “Go get him, then,” Clinton said, waving the old gelding on. He immediately trotted over to the two of you, and Holden met him halfway.

You smiled at Clinton as he walked over, chuckling as the two old men immediately began grooming each other. “It’s like they never see each other,” you said by way of greeting.

“It’s been at least a week,” Clinton joked, earning a soft chuckle from you. “I trust Natalia’s been teaching you about Roman culture?” he asked, just a hint of his fatherly tone sneaking in. Having a wife and kids had really changed him and you sometimes felt like you were one of his own kids, although you were certainly too old to be one. 

You sighed and nodded. “She’s taught us everything but the language. We’re to learn as much as we can on the way over.” 

Clinton nodded knowingly. “She was always better with Latin than I was. Dunno where she learned all of it. I shouldn’t be surprised, though. Natalia’s always been a quick study. Absorbs information like a sponge.” 

You glanced at him. You’d forgotten he’d fought in the war, too. Natalia had this dangerous air about her that never really allowed you to forget she could snap your neck in an instant, but Clinton was unassuming in that he only appeared to be a happily married father of three.

It was sometimes easy to forget that he could shoot you in the eye from a hundred yards or more. 

“Wanda reminds me a lot of her. She’s grown up to be such a nice, intelligent young woman,” you said with a smile.

Clinton, however, groaned. “Oh please don’t tell me Fritigern’s dragging the twins along.”

You laughed out loud, having nearly forgotten about the playfully antagonistic relationship between Clinton and Pietro. “Oh, they’re coming with us, all right.” 

As if on cue, Pietro appeared beside you. “Grandpa Clinton! Nice to see your old joints let you out of bed today,” he said mischievously, devilish grin on his face.

You stifled a chuckle behind your hand. When Clinton put on a matching smirk, you knew you were in for more than you’d bargained for. “It was a little tough to get out of bed today, actually. My wife always gives me very enthusiastic, amorous goodbyes,” he said suggestively. 

“Oh gosh!” you exclaimed, clapping your hands over your ears. You didn’t need to hear this. Not from your brothers. 

“What are you talking about? I loved many women last night and I’m just fine,” Pietro said with a smirk. “Seems like you’re just getting old, Clint.”

Clinton, however, only smiled victoriously. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that lovemaking isn’t a race, Piet? No wonder none of the women in town want to marry you.”

Pietro opened his mouth to respond, but you cut him off. “Please, please, _please_ stop this conversation right now. I can’t take it,” you said despairingly. No matter how hard you mashed your hands to your ears, you heard their words anyway. 

Clint and Pietro took one look at your face and dissolved into laughter. You glared at the both of them and smacked them on their forearms. They kept laughing, however, and a moment or so later you joined them.

Natalia and Wanda joined you a few minutes later, closely followed by Chief Nick Fritigern, your father, and two other village leaders. 

* * *

Not fifteen minutes later you were on the road. Clint drove the carriage while you, Pietro, Natalia, and Wanda studied in the back, smashed in with all of the luggage and food. The chief and the other leaders rode on their best horses, Fritigern up front and center. 

The trip to Byzantium took days and by the time you arrived in the capital you fiercely missed sleeping indoors. The river crossing had been particularly grueling, but all of you, your horses, and your equipment made it through it unscathed. The countryside passed slowly and you only stopped for a short while in each village you passed. The locals were surprised to see “barbarians” down this far southeast, but seemed eager to trade with you anyway. The kids (especially the young boys) seemed enamored by your group. You supposed they’d probably never seen your clan’s clothing before. You probably looked as strangely dressed to them as they did to you. 

The closer to the sea you traveled the warmer it got and you eventually found yourself shrugging out of your furs. It felt wrong to be without that layer, yet it was freeing in a way.

When the capital finally rolled into sight, you couldn’t help but stare. Even from this far away, the buildings looked huge. They were red clay and brick and stone and looked far larger than anything your tribe had ever built. Wanda and Pietro stared at it, heads peeking around Clinton who merely chuckled at their star-struck expressions. The road sloped gently downward towards the city and from this high up you had a stunning view of the sea which glimmered like many-faceted jewels in the sunlight.

You turned to Natalia and pointed to the sprawling city barely a mile down the road. “That… _that’s_ Byzantium?” you said, hardly daring to believe your eyes. Surely thousands of people lived there. How did humans ever create such a marvel?

Natalia smiled and nodded with a chuckle. “Rome is just as beautiful. Perhaps we can visit there later, if all goes according to plan today?” she said, mischief sparking in her eyes. 

You turned to stare at the city, eyes wide with childlike wonderment. “I can’t even imagine _another_ city like this… It’s amazing that there’s even one…” you whispered. Beside you, Wanda nodded in agreement. Even Pietro nodded for a moment before he remembered he was supposed to hate the place. He tried to scowl determinedly, but it kept slipping off his face when he saw something new and interesting as you neared the city gates. Natalia stifled a laugh in her palm at his rapidly changing facial expressions and even you had to tear your eyes away from the quickly increasing number of buildings to smile at him. 

Eventually the tall city gates loomed in front of you. A couple of city guards glared at you from under their heavy, feathered helmets. One stepped forward, though he nearly stumbled over his own two feet. If you weren’t mistaken, he was drunk. 

“What’s your business in Byzantium, barbarians?” he slurred, sneering down his nose at you. 

Just like that, the magic of the city faded, ruined by one bigoted idiot. 

You shouldn’t have been surprised that Nick spoke perfect Latin, but you still couldn’t help an eyebrow raise when he responded politely, valiantly ignoring the guard’s frankly offensive demeanor. _“I’m Nicholas Fritigern of the Thervingi tribe of the Dniester River. We’re here to petition your Emperor. We’ve brought gifts for his majesty in the hopes that he’ll hear our pleas.”_

Even though Nick sounded nothing but cordial and humble, you and everyone else from your tribe knew he was swearing in his head. Bending to another ruler, even in words, pained him greatly. 

The guard scoffed. _“Let’s see it, then. These ‘gifts’,”_ he said. It was clear he thought anything you offered wouldn’t be worthy of his Emperor. 

He moved to walk towards the cart, but Nick’s hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks. He narrowed his good eye at the guard and the man visibly paled. _“My gifts are not for ordinary men’s eyes, soldier. Would you truly belittle your Emperor by claiming yourself as worthy as he? Are you that audacious?”_ he asked challengingly. 

The soldier gazed up at him, slack-jawed. Nick raised an eyebrow expectantly and the man quickly shook his head so violently his helm would have come flying off if not for the chin strap. 

Nick smiled (it was a predatory thing that would have frightened the man if he’d been more cognizant). _“Good. Now, if you’d be so kind as to open the gates?”_ Fritigern said, finally releasing the man’s shoulder. 

He nodded furiously and scrambled back to the gate. _“Open it up! They’re clear!”_ he called to the men on the ramparts. One startled awake and looked around for the danger, only to let out a sigh when he realized it was his fellow guard making a nuisance of himself. They leaned over the wall, stared at their fellow guard, then at your group. They shrugged and, a second later, began turning the great wheel that controlled the metal gate. It rose slowly and after a moment Nick urged his horse onward, the rest of you following closely behind him. As you passed below the great archway, your awe from earlier returned tenfold. People bustled about on stone streets. The buildings had two floors and some had roofs and ceilings so high you had to crane your neck to see the top. Back home, your largest most opulent buildings were your churches and even then they couldn’t hold a candle to even the most basic building here. People stared at you as you passed and you knew enough Latin by now to recognize that most of what they said was not complementary. Eventually your party came to a stop in a market row. 

Nick pulled his horse around and Clinton and Natalia immediately looked to him, awaiting instruction. 

“Natalia, Clinton, the other leaders, and I will go the palace. I don’t know if Emperor Pierce will be willing to talk today, but I’d like to spend as little time here as possible, so we’re starting immediately. While we’re gone, I want you three-” he pointed to you, Wanda, and Pietro, “-to run the stall. Trade what you can… but do your best to collect information, too. Play the stupid barbarian card. They’ll tell you everything. People like to talk when they think they’re smarter than you,” he said. 

“Is that why you never stop talking, chief?” Natalia asked playfully. 

You, Wanda, and Pietro clammed up at the jab, but Clinton was biting back a laugh. You would never talk to the chief like that, but Natalia was a special case. She was practically raised by the man.

Nick rolled his eyes as he hopped off his horse and handed Wanda the lead. “Let’s go, Romanova. You too, Barton. We have things to do.” 

Natalia and Clinton hopped off the cart and you dug through the bag in the back until you found the one with the gifts for the Emperor. You hefted it over the side to Clinton’s waiting arms. He never ceased to amaze you as he shrugged it over his shoulder with ease. 

“Good luck,” you told them all with a small smile, earning a smile from Natalia and Clinton and a scoff from Nick.

“You don’t need luck, (Y/N). You have me,” he said with a smirk before turning and walking towards the palace, which stood above the other buildings in both height and opulence at the top of the hill by the sea.

“Stay safe!” Natasha said with a smile before turning and jogging to catch up to Nick. 

Clinton was walking away, but kept turning around to yell reminders at you. “Watch out for pickpockets! Don’t fall for scams! Oh, and stick together! Don’t get captured by slavers, we don’t have the money to buy you back!” he joked, though you knew there was a vein of seriousness in that warning.

You rolled your eyes. “Go, Clinton! Or you’re going to be left behind!” you yelled, smile on your lips. 

The moment they were out of sight you turned to the twins, excited expression on your face. “I’m going exploring! Stay here, don’t get kidnapped or murdered, all right?” you said as you jumped out of the cart, startling a few citizens that had stopped to stare at the oddities in their marketplace. 

“Wait, I wanted to explore! (Y/N)!” Pietro called after you, frown on his face. Wanda didn’t say anything, but you could tell she wanted to, too.

“Too slow for once, Pietro! I won’t be long, though! Make sure you tie the horses up correctly, or we’ll have to walk home!” you said cheerily over your shoulder before you disappeared around the corner. 

Everywhere you went you attracted stares in your odd clothes, but you paid them almost no mind. There were statues everywhere. The stonework on buildings was so intricate you were sure you could stare at it for an hour and still find something new about it by the sixtieth minute. The streets were wide, allowing carts to pass each other with ease. There were so many people you could hardly comprehend it. How did they all live like this, packed together like peas in a pod? You supposed that it wouldn’t be that difficult if the food was brought to you. 

But how did these people even get the money to buy their food? Did they make things? Create art? You supposed a lot of them had to be fishermen, judging by the copious amount of boats in the harbor. 

You’d never been on a boat before and quickly added it to the list of things you wanted to do while you were here. 

You rounded the corner with a huge smile, only for it to slip off your face at the sight before you. 

People of all color, shapes, sex, and sizes stood on top of a raised platform, their bodies weighed down by chains. The expressions in their faces ranged from fearful to resigned to absolutely empty. They were all naked as the day they were born, greased up to make them look even more appealing to potential buyers. 

You’d walked into the slave market. You watch in horror as a young boy- no older than 18- was brought forward. The slave auctioneer showed him off almost like was a prized cattle and you fought the urge to vomit. 

How had you been blinded by stone and artwork? This empire of lies was where Fritigern sought aid? This place, where they sold people like pieces of meat? 

You turned to run back the way you’d come, but ran smack into a wall.

You stumbled backward a step or two with a yelp, hand flying up to rub your nose and forehead tenderly. You looked up at what you’d run into, only to freeze. 

Not a wall, a man. 

One with a sword and dangerous, dark dead eyes that held no light.

_“My my, what have we here? A little barbarian girl, all alone? Isn’t that a shame,”_ he murmured dangerously, taking a predatory step towards you that had you scrambling backwards. The two men next to him grinned wickedly and you suddenly knew you were in trouble.

Why hadn’t you just listened to Clinton? You should have stayed with Wanda and Pietro. Going off into a city alone was stupid. These weren’t your people. They couldn’t be trusted.

_“What do you say, sweet thing? Would you like to make me a very rich man?”_ he asked silkily, taking another step towards you that nearly had you letting out a squeak of fear. It all became clear in an instant: This man was a slaver.

_“Away!”_ you hissed, wishing you’d learned more Latin.

There man raised an eyebrow and the grin turned feral. _“Oh, and she speaks Latin, too! Someone will pay a hefty price for a bitch like that!”_ He lunged for you but you’d already turned on your heel and ran. You didn’t know where you were headed, but as far as you were concerned, the only thing that mattered was putting as much distance between you and the slaver as possible. 

You heard the man and his two fiendish friends running after you. _“No, you idiots! This one’s mine! I love the chase!”_ he yelled, causing a shiver to run down your spine and your feet to pick up speed. 

You tried to weave in and out of people, but you simply weren’t used to the sheer weight of this many people pressing down around you. The only thing you had going for you was that he was much larger and therefore had slightly more difficulty pushing through the crowds.

You turned a corner onto a less busy street and ran down at it, only to run face-first into a person for the second time that day. Two strong hands caught your arms, preventing you from falling straight down onto your butt.

_“Whoa there, slow down! What’s the rush?”_ came a deep masculine voice. 

[Originally posted by maiden-marvel](https://tmblr.co/Zznseg28vibtn)

You looked up and felt your breath leave you in a whoosh. Gorgeous blue-grey eyes stared down at you, and you could just barely see a glimmer of white teeth behind a sinfully attractive crooked smile. 

_“There you are,”_ came a slimy voice from behind you, snapping you out of your sudden daze. 

You squeaked and hid behind the man, chest heaving as your pulse raced. _“Please, help. He want hurt me,”_ you whispered in broken Latin, clutching at the back of the man’s shirt. He glanced over his shoulder at you, expression unreadable for a moment before he turned to glare at the other man who was stalking towards you, hardly sparing the man in front of you a glance. 

_“That’s far enough, cretin,”_ your savior said, voice low and threatening. 

The man’s head swiveled, gaze locking onto the man, the smile faltering for only a moment. _“My name’s Rumlow. Maybe you’ve heard of me? I saw her first. She’s **mine** ,”_ he said, causing another shiver to run down your spine. 

_“Leave now, slaver. This is your last warning,”_ the man said, tone calm and collected but with a promise of danger that scared you nearly as much as the other man did. 

_“Oh yeah? And who are you to boss me around like that, **sir**? She’s not a citizen. She has no rights. The gothi are fair game!” _ he argued. 

The man closed the distance between them and, though you couldn’t see his face, he must have looked absolutely murderous because Rumlow froze in his tracks, eyes widening in fear. 

The man only placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned in, whispering so quietly in his ear that you had no hope of hearing his words. 

Rumlow’s face fell and he sunk in such a low bow his nose practically brushed the street. _“Sorry, sir! My mistake! I’ll leave at once! I beg your pardon!”_ he sputtered. You watched in shock as the man sprinted away and around the corner, not even chancing a glance over his shoulder. 

You stared at the man as he slowly turned around, face impassive. The warmth that you’d seen at the beginning of your encounter had vanished. 

_“Th-thank you,”_ you murmured shyly in halting Latin, not quite sure where to begin on how to thank someone for saving you from slavery. 

_“Did you come here alone, Visigothi?”_ he asked, tone cold. 

You frowned and straightened your back, suddenly on edge. _“No… friends, family. Here. What ‘Visigothi’?”_ you said, racking your brain in attempt to communicate in his tongue.

He turned his back on you and began to walk away. _“ **You** are Visigothi, Visigothi. Go back to your people before Byzantium swallows you whole, barbarian.” _

You frowned and, before you knew what you were doing, you lunged forward and grabbed his hand, tugging him to a halt.

He froze, staring over his shoulder at you. You didn’t know what had urged you to stop him, but something in you refused to let him go. Something about him drew you to him like a moth to the flame. 

_“Want thank you. What name?”_ you asked hesitantly, eyes wide and beseeching. 

You weren’t sure if you imagined it or not, but it seemed like his eyes softened just a bit and he turned to face you. _“You don’t need to thank me… and my name is James,”_ he said, lip tilting up just a fraction at the corner.

You smiled widely at him, happy to see even a tiny chip in his ice cold armor. You weren’t sure what had brought it on, but after seeing what he could be like, you hated this iciness with a passion. _“Thank you, James. Saved me. Owe you,”_ you said with a sincere smile. 

Your breath hitched when he took a step forward and raised his hand as though to cup your cheek. You stared up into those endless blue eyes and felt your heart beat hard in your chest. _Yes_ , you thought. _Just a little bit closer and-_

But then his hand froze just inches from your face and curled into a fist which promptly dropped to his side, the warm look in his eyes vanishing in an instant, only to be replaced by stone cold indifference. He tugged his hand from yours and your heart nearly broke when he turned and walked away. _“Go home, Visigothi… and don’t come back.”_

You wanted to run after him, but your feet refused to move. Your legs felt like jelly after running all over town (and likely because of James) and even standing was a struggle. You watched him until he made it to the corner, eyes widening in surprise when he looked back at you. His expression was hard to read from this distance, but you thought you might have seen sorrow or regret there. But then he turned and walked away, leaving you an emotional wreck in his wake. 

You wanted to curl into a ball and cry, but the fear of being discovered by Rumlow- without James to protect you this time- spurned your tired feet forward and, using the palace and waterfront as guidance points, you worked your way back towards Wanda and Pietro.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The negotiations were a success. You and your clan return home and settle a nearby river valley, but things don’t go as planned.

[Originally posted by namieamuuro](https://tmblr.co/Z3JOTb2VRcSMV)

_But then his hand froze just inches from your face and curled into a fist which promptly dropped to his side, the warm look in his eyes vanishing in an instant, only to be replaced by stone cold indifference. He tugged his hand from yours and your heart nearly broke when he turned and walked away. **“Go home, Visigothi… and don’t come back.”**  
_

_You wanted to run after him, but your feet refused to move. Your legs felt like jelly after running all over town (and likely because of James) and even standing was a struggle. You watched him until he made it to the corner, eyes widening in surprise when he looked back at you. His expression was hard to read from this distance, but you thought you might have seen sorrow or regret there. But then he turned and walked away, leaving you an emotional wreck in his wake.  
_

_You wanted to curl into a ball and cry, but the fear of being discovered by Rumlow- without James to protect you this time- spurned your tired feet forward and, using the palace and waterfront as guidance points, you worked your way back towards Wanda and Pietro._

* * *

**376 AD - South of the Danube River - Roman Empire**

The rest of the stay in Byzantium was short. Negotiations went well, as you knew they would- Nick got things done. Pietro and Wanda managed to see a bit of the city before they left. You’d insisted they only go once Natalia and Clinton got back, to which they’d eventually (begrudgingly) agreed. You didn’t go with them and if any of them thought that was suspicious, they didn’t mention it to your face. You’d spent the next few hours selling your people’s wares to anyone who gave you the time of day, trading your goods for their odd little currency. The entire time, your mind was plagued by your recent close call… along with the mysterious man who’d saved you. Why was he so aloof? He’d seemed kind, at first, but his demeanor was almost icy the moment you opened your mouth. A racist, perhaps? But he didn’t seem the type… he helped a random woman in need with no promise of reward and only trouble to gain.

But then it was time to go and you tried to push the man out of your thoughts (with varying success) so that you could focus. Wanda and Pietro jabbered happily about the city the entire way back. Apparently they hadn’t seen the slave market, though Natalia and Clinton were a little quieter which led you to believe that they knew, too. 

The stop in the village was short. Clinton had ridden ahead and told every village the good news. Everyone had already packed up their homes and prepared for the journey south by the time you arrived. Moving an entire people wasn’t an easy feat, but Nick handled it with his usual grace and efficiency (and a fair bit of swearing). 

Two days after arriving, the entire Thervingi people were headed to their new homes… the Roman Empire. 

* * *

**Some Months Later**

“We chose a poor time to settle,” you grumbled, staring vacantly at the field near your house. You’d arrived so late in summer that planting crops now would only result in their death in a few weeks when fall started. Your people only had the food they brought with them to live off of, along with whatever they could scavenge or hunt in the area. 

“But the Emperor promised your people food, didn’t he?” Steven asked from his spot beside you. You’d met the young roman man when you settled the area, your village settling alongside his. They hadn’t all been as welcoming as the skinny blond man but you’d been expecting as much. You were “barbarians” after all. Still, he’d become a good friend in such a short time. He’d adopted your people’s god, much to the dismay of the people in his village. Only his friend Samuel and girlfriend Margaret still talked to him. His parents had died long ago and he made money by doing whatever work he could find and creating art in between jobs. 

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “You really think the Emperor will give food to my people? From what you told me, the entire Empire is experiencing a food storage. We’ll be the last on his list of mouths to feed.”

Steve frowned. “Give him more credit, (Y/N). He made your people a promise. He’s honor-bound to uphold it. And _you’re_ his people now, too.” 

You sighed and glanced at him. “I suppose we’ll find out when Clinton and his party return, won’t we?” 

He smiled and patted you comfortingly on the back. “It’ll all turn out well, (Y/N). Your people are hardy. They survived the Huns, after all.”

You sighed and nodded. “You’re probably right. It’s just been a rocky start, Steve. I’m worried about them.” 

Steve merely smiled and stood, extending his hand to you. “C’mon, let’s finish those pig pens. Margaret’s family’s sow just had piglets, and I know your dad’s been itching to get a few.”

You laughed and took his hand. “Alright, but don’t push yourself, okay? Don’t need you having a breathing attack because you’re too stubborn to sit still.” 

He frowned petulantly at you. “I make no promises.”

You rolled your eyes and walked past him, walking around your house to the back where you’d keep all of your animals once the cages and pens were done. 

“Stupid stubborn man,“ you muttered under your breath with a smile. You’d have to keep an eye on him or he might kill himself on accident. 

“What was that?” he asked playfully from just behind you. 

“Nothing, nothing,” you said, flashing him a smile over your shoulder. 

“Sure,” he said with a knowing smile. 

* * *

It was late evening when the courier rode into town on his young chestnut gelding, bulging message bag slung over his shoulder. Steve always stopped whatever he was doing when he spotted him, positively vibrating in place in anticipation. Whenever he was passed by, he seemed to deflate a bit. 

Today, however, the courier made a beeline for him, digging through his satchel as he went. Steve’s face visibly brightened when he pulled out a thick rolled parchment sealed with a simple wax stamp and handed it to him. 

“Thank you!” Steve called excitedly to the man as he walked away. The courier only gave him a wave as he hopped back on his horse, but Steve was already snapping the wax seal and carefully unrolling the parchment. 

“Another letter from your friend Bucky?” you asked with a smile, leaning against your new fence. 

Steve nodded eagerly and immediately began scanning the letter, practically drinking in the words. He talked about his friend Bucky a lot. He lived in the capital and apparently would for the rest of his life. He’d traded himself to fight in the Emperor’s Legions in exchange for keeping Steve out of the slave trade. According to Steve, it had been an easy choice for Bucky, even if Steve still felt guilty about it. You smiled and let him be, going back to working on your fence. 

A short laugh from Steve a few minutes later drew your attention. 

“What?” you asked with a smile, glancing up at him as you hammered in the last few nails. 

Steve glanced up at you and immediately looked a little guilty, which only piqued your interest even more. “I shouldn’t say… I don’t think he’d want me spilling his secrets.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Steve, I’m never going to Byzantium ever again if I can help it. I’ll never meet him. And I’m friends with Natalia. I know how to keep a secret,” you said with a smile. 

He finally relented. “He met a girl a while ago. Likes her a lot, but apparently she left the capital before he could ask her out. He’s apparently still thinking about her, though, even weeks later.” 

You hummed your sympathy. “Does he even know where she lives? If he’s _that_ upset about it, we might be able to find her the next time we have some time off. For all we know she might be in the area.” 

Steve sighed and shook his head. “He didn’t say. I’ll ask him when I write back, but it’ll be at least a few weeks until we get his response.” 

You smiled at Steve’s fussing over his best friend. “Hey, he’ll figure it out. You said he’s one of the most eligible men in the Roman Empire. Even if we don’t find her, he probably has women lining up down the block to marry him.” 

Steven groaned and opened his mouth to regale you with what was likely a story about how he’d been dragged out to parties with women by Bucky, but you caught site of Clinton and his wagon turning down the road. Steve turned to look, too, a smile lighting up his face. “There’s Clinton! Let’s go help him unload the food!” 

You grinned and trotted along after Steven, but you stopped in your tracks the moment Clinton was close enough for you to see his face. You grabbed Steve’s wrist and tugged him to a sudden stop. He looked back at you, confused, then back at Clinton, his face falling immediately. The closer he got the easier it was to see the wagon was almost completely empty. You stood in silence on the side of the road as he passed. He spared you a short nod and a solemn “hey sister, Steven” as he passed. Wordlessly, you trailed after him as he made his way down the road to Nick’s house. Steven followed behind you, face twisted in confusion and hurt. His Emperor heard your people’s pleas and, if Clinton’s face and cart were anything to go by, they fell on deaf ears. 

* * *

You and Steven snuck in the back door, avoiding the boards you knew were creaky. Nick and the other elders were in the front room. A few helpers scuttled around the kitchen preparing what little food could be spared. You tiptoed to the doorway, only a flimsy curtain separating you from the people in the other room. You glanced at Steven and held your finger to your lips and he nodded in understanding.

“They denied your request?” your father asked, astounded. 

“Even threatened to shove me out of the palace when I told Pierce he promised us food,” Clinton said, sounding resigned. 

“Did you go back the next day and try again?” another elder asked.

Clinton sighed. “Yes. And the next. And the one after that. Same answer each time. They finally threatened to put my head on a spike so I decided to stop pressing my luck and left. I bought what little I could from the markets, but it wasn’t much.”

“We can’t grow food this late in the season. We have almost none of their currency. There are too many of us to feed off the land and even our immediate neighbors are struggling, too. How are we to feed ourselves? Our people?” your father asked, obviously distraught. 

There was a long sigh. “We can’t push the Emperor, but Governor Sitwell… we might have a chance with him,” Nick said. “Turn the fire up under his feet. Make him dance. Do whatever you have to. We’ll get that food one way or another.” 

You fought back a shiver at Nick’s tone. The man was terrifying sometimes. 

“Clinton and I will leave for the governor’s mansion immediately.” Natalia finally spoke up. You weren’t even aware she was there, but she had always been quiet and stealthy. 

“Hurry. Our people think we’re all sitting on our hands. The last thing we need right now is infighting for food and leadership,” Nick said tersely.

“We will, sir.” 

There was the sound of light footsteps followed by the door shutting. 

“The rest of you are dismissed as well. Go see to your village’s needs. Get head counts. Ration food. Store whatever you can.” 

There were murmured mutterings of “yes, high chieftain,” followed by more footsteps exiting. 

You sunk down to the ground and Steven followed after you, eyeing you worriedly. “C’mon, (Y/N). Let’s get out of here,” Steven whispered, eyeing the curtain worriedly. 

You nodded numbly and stood, taking his hand so he could lead you from the house. 

You hadn’t made it more than two steps when Nick burst through the curtain, knife drawn. Steven stared at him, wide-eyed, but you barely moved an inch. To his credit, Steven didn’t budge, either. Stubborn ass. 

When he realized it was just the two of you he stowed his knife, though his burning glare didn’t leave you for a second. “Shouldn’t eavesdrop, you know,” he said as he crossed his arms. He spared Steven only a cursory nod. 

You, however, weren’t taking any of his shit. “The Emperor abandoned our people and you go to a _governor?_ ” you asked incredulously. 

Nick took a step forward and glared down his nose at you, his one good eye trained unwaveringly on your face. “I’m trying to keep the peace, (Y/N). Our people have already seen war. I’m don’t fancy taking on the entire Roman Empire,” he said testily. “Not that I expect a spoiled chief’s daughter like you to understand that.” 

You bristled at the insult but bit back a retort. “And if they force our hand?” you growled. 

Nick stared at you a moment longer before he took a half step back and smiled wickedly, teeth flashing in the low light. “Then there won’t be a place that Pierce can hide where I won’t find him.” Steven paled dangerously at the implied threat and Fritigern turned his attention to the short blond man. “Got a problem with that, _cives?_ ” he asked, practically hissing the Roman word for free-born citizen.

Steven set his jaw and stared resolutely up into Nick’s eyes. “No, sir. I’ve no love for a country that abandons its own people and makes empty promises.”

Nick actually smiled at that and gave him an approving nod. “I like you, _cives_. I’m glad you joined us.”

Steven gave Nick a tentative smile. “Me too, sir.”

Satisfied, Nick turned and walked away, but not before calling one more thing out to Steve. “Get your woman on board, too. She’s a strong, intelligent woman. I like her.”

Steven went a beautiful shade of pink and you had to bite back a laugh. When he turned back to you and found you smiling, he looked away and groaned in embarrassment. “Come on. Let’s finish the pig pen.” 

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips as you followed him out of the high chief’s house and back to your own home. 

* * *

You were sitting in your house with Wanda, Pietro, and Steven when a runner burst through the front door, chest heaving. You and Pietro were on your feet instantly and Wanda had her hand in her skirt’s pocket, likely wrapped around the throwing dagger she kept there.

“What is it?” you asked, quickly taking in the runner’s harried appearance. 

“The High Chief summons the four of you posthaste. He’ll give you more information when you arrive. Please go immediately.”

You nodded, though you were a bit confused as to why Steve was invited, too. “We’ll leave immediately.” 

With his message delivered, he ran off again to who knew where. 

“What was _that_ all about?” Pietro asked, eyebrow raised.

Your lips pulled down in a frown. “Don’t know, but I have my suspicions.”

“We should get moving,” Steven said as he stood, offering a hand to Wanda, who took it gratefully. 

The four of you began the short walk to Nick’s house, trepidation coiling sickeningly in your guts.

* * *

“He said what?” you screeched, staring at Natalia and Clinton in disbelief. 

Natalia frowned and repeated Clinton’s words, though they didn’t sound any more real the second time around. “That if we don’t have the money to pay for our food, we could always… sell our people.”

“ _Children_ , Natalia. He said our children,” Clinton said bitterly, pacing back and forth in distress. “Damned bastard.”

“How dare he! I knew coming to this god-forsaken land was a mistake! Our ruler would have us sell our children or starve to death! What sort of choice is that?” you raged. Pietro, Steven, and Wanda all nodded along in agreement. 

“It isn’t one.” 

The four of you spun to look at the source of the voice in the doorway. Pietro and Wanda dropped in shallow bows when they saw Nick and the other elders standing there and you and Steven followed suit after a moment. 

When you rose, Nick was assessing your group coolly. 

Wanda spoke up, her voice steady and strong but quiet. “Why were we summoned here, chief?” 

Nick smirked and you couldn’t help but grin. That was a smile full of promises. “Because we’re going to war, Miss Maximoff. And you six are going to lead our army.”

Natalia let out an audible groan even as Pietro let out a short cheer of victory. Steven stared at Nick, absolutely flabbergasted. “Me, sir? I’m… I’m not…” he trailed off, looking to you for help. You merely grinned at him as he looked between you and Nick in confusion.

“You’re one of us, Steven. (Y/N) trusts you, which is more than enough for me. She tells me you’re well-read and a quick study. We’re hoping you’ll be our tactician. You know the land and the Empire better than any of us.

Steven looked to you as though seeking confirmation that this wasn’t some horrible trick and you nodded eagerly at him, smiling.

He turned back to Nick, jaw set in determination. “I’d be honored, sir.”

Nick nodded. “Good man. Think you can get Samuel and Margaret in on this? Are they trustworthy?” 

“Margaret’s an ex-slave. She has no love for the Empire. Samuel’s seen how your people help ours, even when you have nothing. I can persuade him.”

Nick nodded and turned his attention to the twins. “You two can practically read each other’s minds. This will be of use to us if we have to split the army. I want each of you trained with Steve on military strategy. Clint will teach you everything he knows and you’ll lead with him and Natalia when the time comes.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to determine where you fit into these plans of Nick’s. The others all had clear roles, but-

He finally turned his gaze on you and you felt a thrill of grim anticipation run up your spine. “(Y/N), you’re going to study with Natalia. You’re going to infiltrate their capital and get close to their leadership in whatever way you can.”

You felt your stomach plummet to your feet. “Byzantium? You’re.. sending me to Byzantium?” you asked, aghast. “Natalia’s already trained. She’s masterful at blending in with the locals. Why not send _her_?” 

Nick frowned and glanced at Natalia, who nodded after a moment. “Natalia is known by the commanders of the Roman army. She infiltrated their ranks during the first war. She ended up blowing her cover. She will not be welcomed back and if they recognize her she will surely be killed.”

“But she went back to the capital with you! They’ve already seen her!”

Nick, however, was already shaking his head halfway through your sentence. “As a diplomat of our people. They recognized her, of course. She probably even intimidated a few of them.”

“That’s a nice way of saying she scared them so badly they practically shat themselves,” Clinton muttered under his breath. 

“But they’ll surely recognize her if she tries to hide among them again. Even the Romans learn if you make a big enough impression,” Nick finished, crossing his arms across his chest.

You sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Fine, I understand. I’ll begin training with Natasha immediately.”

Nick nodded in satisfaction. “You have your orders. The chiefs will inform our people to prepare for war. You have two weeks.” 

The six of you nodded in understanding. 

“Let’s show them the power of us ‘Visigothi,’” Nick said wickedly. 

“Glory to the Visigothi!” Pietro cheered. 

You and the others smiled, everyone in the room meeting his cheer with exuberance. You were finally helping your people and if you had your way, knocking unjust men out of power. 

“For the Visigothi!” 

* * *

A few hundred miles away in the busy city of Byzantium, Bucky sat on the window sill of his living room window, gazing at the city below. Although he was looking, he wasn’t really seeing. His thoughts were still on the Visigothi woman he’d met months ago. Never before had a woman stuck in his mind so. He blamed it on his past and tried again and again to push her from his mind. “Never again,” he told himself over and over. 

But then he woke in the morning and his thoughts immediately drifted to her. She was the last thing he thought of before he fell asleep at night. His pulse raced when he thought he glimpsed her as he walked down the busy streets, only to be disappointed and then upset with himself when it wasn’t her. 

A knock at his door drew his attention. With a sigh he stood from the sill and made his way downstairs, thoughts still not quite in the present. He coached his face into detached indifference as he opened the door.

A nervous-looking runner stood at the door. The sash across his chest told him all he needed to know; Emperor Pierce. 

“What message does the Emperor have for me?” he asked, voice raspy from disuse. He hadn’t talked to anyone all day. 

The courier seemed to find some of his courage, although he still looked distinctly terrified. “Emperor Pierce requests your presence in the palace immediately, sir.”

Bucky frowned. “There’s been trouble.” 

The courier shifted nervously. “I don’t know, sir. They didn’t tell me.”

Bucky sighed and nodded. “Understood. Tell our master I’ll be over shortly.” 

The courier nodded and looked relieved that he was able to make it away with his head. It nearly made Bucky smile. 

“Yes sir, Centurion Barnes.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You journey to the capital and while your training has paid off, the city doesn't treat you well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From now on, default language will be Latin. Other languages will be in “quotes and italics.”

[Originally posted by camilabarnes](https://tmblr.co/Zn4swc2TF0TWf)

_The courier seemed to find some of his courage, although he still looked distinctly terrified. “Emperor Pierce requests your presence in the palace immediately, sir.”_

_Bucky frowned. “There’s been trouble.”  
_

_The courier shifted nervously. “I don’t know, sir. They didn’t tell me.”_

_Bucky sighed and nodded. “Understood. Tell our master I’ll be over shortly.”  
_

_The courier nodded and looked relieved that he was able to make it away with his head. It nearly made Bucky smile._

_“Yes sir, Centurion Barnes.”_

* * *

Your training with Natalia was brutal. She beat you to a pulp with sparring training in the morning, bored you half to death in the afternoon with military tactics, then droned through dinner about social customs of Byzantium and other large Roman cities. 

By the time you crawled into bed, you didn’t want to hear a single word more from Natalia. Her voice played on repeat in your head, driving you nearly insane until blissful sleep finally claimed you. 

It continued on like this for a small eternity, but by the time Natalia was finished with you, you could speak fluent unaccented Latin. You knew the ins and outs of living in the capital. You knew how to hide yourself from danger as well as how to be seen by the right people. 

Your task was complex in its simplicity: infiltrate command of the Roman army. You weren’t sure you- a woman- were best suited to infiltrate the goddamned army, but Natalia assured you that this would only ensure they didn’t see you as a threat. You decided to take her word for it, though you still reserved your doubts.

Almost before you knew it you were on a horse headed for the capital. As you said goodbye to all of your friends and adopted siblings, you could see the tightness in their smiles. They weren’t sure if they were ever going to see you again. They’d declare open war on the Roman Empire soon. If it was discovered you were spying for them, you assuredly wouldn’t survive. 

With one final wave over your shoulder you were off, bags slung over your back and saddle. You took a deep breath, determination lining your features. 

Step one: Make it to the capital in one piece.

* * *

The closer you moved to the capital, the better off the people were. Villages like Steve’s struggled, but once you got into the wealthier provinces, it quickly became clear that Byzantium’s resources were given first to privileged _cives,_ leaving anyone with money to fight over their scraps. More than once you saw band of slavers, their quarries chained together or stuffed into too-small cages. You forced yourself to look unaffected by the sight, but it was no small feat. If you never saw a person in chains again, it would be too soon. 

Byzantium finally rolled into view on the fourth day and, try as you might, you couldn’t help but be impressed once again by its size and opulence. Such was the curse of a simple chief’s daughter such as yourself, you supposed. 

The main gates towered over you, closed as usual. You tensed for a split second when the guards turned their attention towards you. Most of them turned their attention back towards the dice game they were playing on the dusty cobblestone road, but one sighed and walked over to you. 

“What’s your business in the city, citizen?” he asked, obviously wanting to get back to his game. 

“I just finished trading with those savages from up north. They were quite eager to trade away their valuables for any and all food I had,” you said with a smirk, earning a short bark of laughter from the guard. 

“Good, teach those damned outsiders who the real Romans are. They had the gall to take our land _then_ demand food. Serves the lazy bastards right,” he said with a cruel smile. 

You wanted to punch him in the face, but smiled. “I’m eager to earn some coin in the markets off their idiocy. If you’ll let me in that is, sir,” you said casually, nodding your head towards the gate.

“Of course, of course. Anything for a faithful citizen of the Empire,” he said with a smile and sppreciative tilt of his head. He turned and made his way back towards the gate, signaling the men on top of the wall to raise the gate. 

You gave him a grateful nod as you passed, not missing the hushed conversation between him and his fellow guards who’d finally looked up from their game to watch you pass. 

“She traveling alone?” the ugly one asked, eyeing you with a predatory eye. 

“Oh shut it, Felix. Keep it in your tunic,” the first guard snapped. 

“I’m with Felix on this one, Septimus. Why’d you let her pass before we could have some fun with her?” the stupid one asked. The implications of their conversation sent a shiver down your spine and you urged your horse to walk a little faster, trying hard to keep your eyes forward. 

“You’ve already gotten the whip twice for messing with female citizens, Otho. Consider it me saving you from yourself,” Septimus spat. 

You got far enough away that the rest of their conversation was carried off by the breeze and you breathed a sigh of relief when you made it through the other end of the wall. 

The city was just as you remembered it; busy, cramped, gorgeous, and huge. The first thing you did was make your way to the stables. You didn’t have the money to stable your horse during your stay so you were hoping to get a fair price for the middle-aged mare. With luck, you’d get enough money to tide you over until you could figure out your next step. 

* * *

You walked away from the stable, laden with your heavy bags. You’d thought about perhaps visiting the inn first, but didn’t trust the people enough to leave everything you own unattended for an undetermined amount of time. 

As luck would have it, though, the inn was only a short walk away. The innkeeper was more than happy to give you a room; apparently famine was bad for business. Who knew? You asked for a private room and the man looked a little dubious until you hinted that it was for “lady issues.” He nodded quickly, stuttering out an apology, and gave you a key to the last door on the left. 

The room was sparse, not that you were expecting anything different. A rickety cot in the corner, a set of low shelves shoved against the wall near the cot, small desk near the window, a pot to relieve yourself in, and a thin copper basin for washing up tilted against the wall by the door. 

You sighed and shrugged your bags off one by one, throwing them onto the cot before unloading your things on the desk and shelves. A short while later you collapsed onto the bed, completely exhausted from your journey. It wasn’t that late yet, but you were so tired that the thought of doing anything but sleeping was downright repulsive. 

You were asleep nearly the instant your head hit the pillow. 

* * *

You weren’t sure what woke you up at first. You woke up slowly, senses taking their sweet time to return from dreamland. 

But then you heard something shuffling in your room and suddenly you were wide awake. 

You never found yourself wishing for rats until that exact moment. 

You opened your eyes slowly, hardly daring to breathe. Your heart skipped a beat when your gaze fell on what was unmistakably a large human silhouette rifling through your things. Silently, without so much as letting the blankets whisper against your skin, you slid from your bed. It was pure luck the man’s back was to you. 

And pure misfortune that he turned around as you pulled out your dagger. 

You couldn’t see anything except his eyes beneath the cloth he had draped across his face. However, it was more than enough to see the shock plastered across his visage. Apparently this thief or spy- whichever it happened to be- wasn’t used to getting caught. His dark brown eyes narrowed instantly and before you could close the distance between you he leapt through the open window and into the night. 

You had half a mind to shout for help but if the authorities looked too deeply into your background you could end up blowing your cover. 

But you sure as hell weren’t going to let some random stranger take your things. Your people had worked hard to get everything for you.

You jumped out of the window only a moment or two after him, feet slapping against the cold cobblestone. There wasn’t anyone out at this hour except maybe the occasional city guard and it was no wonder as to why. Thieves, muggers, and murderers were the only company one could find at this dreary hour. 

You spotted your thief immediately and sprinted after him, jaw set in determination. Apparently he hadn’t expected you to come after him because he slowed to a walk as soon as he turned the corner, crying out in surprise when you tackled him to the ground. 

“Ha! I’ve got you, you-” you spun him around and froze when you saw his face. This wasn’t your thief. 

This was-

“Visigothi,” James hissed, staring at you with as much surprise as distaste. 

Your mind raced at a mile a minute. Of all the people to run into in this city, it just had to be the one man you knew on a first-name basis. If you didn’t act immediately you’d be caught before you were in the city for one whole day. 

You scrambled off of him, apologies spilling forth from your lips in droves. “I’m so sorry, sir. I was after a thief. He stole my mother’s necklace and I was following him and he turned this corner but he must have given me the slip because I thought you were him and so I acted without checking if it was really him first which is why-”

James held a hand up, brows knit together in confusion, and you stemmed the tide of your explanation immediately. “What are you doing here, Visigothi? Do you not know your people have been causing problems in the West?”

You pretended to bristle, glaring daggers at him. “Visigothi? You think me to be from that tribe of barbarians? What gives you the right to insult me so?” 

If he looked unsure before he looked absolutely unsteady now, eyeing you warily. “I would not forget the face of an outsider. You are she,” he said, sounding less and less like he believed himself by the second. 

You glared down your nose at him as you stood. “I’ve heard enough, plebeian. That’s quite enough insults for one night. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a thief to catch.” You turned on your heel and ran off the other alley, pretending to search high and low, hoping he wouldn’t pursue you. You turned back before you turned the corner, surprised to see him still sitting there, staring at the ground in confusion. He didn’t look up even though you stared for at least a minute, so you let out a relieved sigh and made your way back to your room in the inn. There was no hope of catching the thief at this point; he could be on the other side of town by now. You clambered back in your window and double-checked the latch before shoving your desk up against the window. 

You flopped back down onto the cot which groaned in protest. You wouldn’t stay here another night, not after a fiasco like that. There was also the chance that James had followed you back… and you half hoped he would come bursting through the door right then. Seeing him again… you’d dreamt about it for months. You knew seeing him would have to be avoided at all costs, but that only made you want to see him more. His blue eyes haunted your sleeping and waking hours alike. His voice called to you in the twilight hours when your mind was in between consciousness and oblivion. His touch lingered on your skin like a ghost. He was even more handsome than you’d remembered; your conscious mind couldn’t do him justice. 

With a groan you rolled around restlessly on your cot. Sleep wouldn’t come easily tonight, not after the events of the last twenty minutes. Still, you held out hope that sleep would take you once more.

* * *

**Bucky’s POV**

He didn’t know how long he sat on the ground. The woman flashed in his mind again and again, his thoughts at war with one another. Pierce had been very clear; the Visigothi were making lots of noise about revolution and fighting, though they hadn’t made any moves yet. He was to begin readying his troops in the event they stopped barking and started acting and to keep an eye out for any spies in the meantime. They weren’t to be trusted.

He knew the spies of the Visigothi and Ostrogothi well. A flash of red hair and bright emerald eyes in his mind’s eye had him clenching his fists in anger, but a deep breath in and out soothed the worst of the passing rage. 

What were the chances she was a citizen and not a spy? Her speech was flawless, a far cry from what it was when he met her all those months ago. She held herself like a citizen, even acted like a noble. If she knew who he was she wouldn’t have acted to brave, but few knew what he looked like without his armor and helmet. Was it possible… she had a lookalike among the populace? Byzantium was large and he avoided going out when the city was at its busiest, so it was possible he just had never seen her before.

But the same draw was there. Just as before, he wanted to hold her close and kiss all her problems away, only to remember the last time he opened his heart and home to a gothi, and pushed all those thoughts away. He stood with a curse, wincing as his cold, sore muscles stretched themselves out. 

By all rights, his duty as a Centurion to the Roman Empire compelled him to find her and uncover the truth… but he wasn’t sure he could handle it. 

In the end, he resolved to keep an eye out for her, though he wouldn’t call in any other agents of the Empire to help. This was his task, and his alone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your search for a way to gather intelligence leads you to an unlikely place and even more unlikely people. Still, this opportunity is the best you could find and Centurion Stark and his servant Jarvis seem like almost-trustworthy people… too bad they’re Romans.

[Originally posted by unintentionalenigma](https://tmblr.co/ZuXG6i21xEeV4)

 

_But the same draw was there. Just as before, he wanted to hold her close and kiss all her problems away, only to remember the last time he opened his heart and home to a gothi, and pushed all those thoughts away. He stood with a curse, wincing as his cold, sore muscles stretched themselves out.  
_

_By all rights, his duty as a Centurion to the Roman Empire compelled him to find her and uncover the truth… but he wasn’t sure he could handle it.  
_

_In the end, he resolved to keep an eye out for her, though he wouldn’t call in any other agents of the Empire to help. This was his task, and his alone._

* * *

**Your POV**

Your time in the city passed without so much as glimpsing James again, much to your mingled relief and disappointment. There were whispers on the street of your tribe disrupting the Empire in the west, though according to all sources you’d found it seemed as though Emperor Pierce was content to let Governor Sitwell deal with the problem for the time being.

You knew, however, that Sitwell was no match for Fritigern and the other leaders. It was only a matter of time until Sitwell would be killed or forced to send for more soldiers. 

Time was not on your side. You had  to find an in to Roman command, and you had to find it fast. 

That was how you found yourself, just two weeks after your arrival, you found yourself on the doorstep of a Centurion’s home, scroll with the information of the open servant position clutched in your hand. Serving in the palace would have been more ideal, but the palace had simply thrown you out while laughing in your face when you’d attempted to find work there. 

So, serving a Centurion had been plan B. He was high enough up the chain of command that he’d receive any important and relevant information that- god willing- you could pass on to your people. 

You glanced nervously up at the house, its sheer size intimidating you more than you thought possible. You knew Centurions were paid well, but this was a bit excessive, wasn’t it? Or was that just your bumpkin gothi speaking?

You shook your head and gathered up your courage before raising your hand to knock at the intricately carved heavy wood door. You could practically hear the sound resonate through the empty house as though it was completely empty on the inside. 

A loud _clunk_ from the other side gave you only a half second to prepare yourself before the door swung open silently, revealing a medium height man with well-trimmed facial hair and dark brown eyes that seemed to take all of you in in and instant. “Are you here for the job?” he asked without any preamble or introduction, catching you off guard. 

[Originally posted by theperkybuttofrdj](https://tmblr.co/ZQWong2EqCNFA)

It took you a second to collect your thoughts. Was this man a servant of the house? Surely he wasn’t a Centurion. “Uh, yes, sir. Are you-”

“Please, call me Anthony. No one calls me ‘sir’ except my servant, no matter how many times I tell him not to.”

“Well, it’s only proper, _sir_.”

You jumped in surprise, not having heard the older man approach. He had slicked-back hair and kind eyes and held himself so primly that you found yourself straightening your back reflexively. 

Anthony merely waved the man’s polite protest away. “You know I don’t care about that crap, Edwin.” 

“Quite right, sir,” he said with an almost sarcastic smile and nod of his head. 

You, however, were very confused. If this man had a servant- and an unfairly adept one at that- why did he put the word out that he was looking for a new one? “Excuse me, but why-”

“Did I invite you here to work as a servant when I already have Jarvis?” Anthony asked, a smirk dancing on the corner of his lips. 

Your mouth snapped closed and you nodded. This man was sharper than his affable air initially lead you to believe.

“Well, I’m leaving, which means Edwin is coming with me and leaving the other man who lives here all on his own. The poor fool doesn’t take care of himself. I think he’d have wasted away years ago if it wasn’t for me and Jarvis here taking care of him.” 

Your brows furrowed. “So _he’s_ the Centurion, then. That makes sense,” you said, nodding, posture relaxing a bit when you realized you weren’t in the presence of anyone too important. You’d have to turn the job down, though. You couldn’t gain useful information from an ordinary cives-

“We’re both Centurions, actually. Not Jarvis, of course. The other guy. The one you’ll be working for.”

You gaped for a moment before dropping to your hands and knees, forehead nearly touching the ground. “Forgive me, Centurion! I had no idea. My insolence cannot be tolerated and I beg that you sp-”

“Alright, that’s enough of that.” You let out a squeak of surprise as Anthony hauled you bodily to your feet, hands wrapped firmly but not painfully around your shoulders. He didn’t look that strong, but you supposed he was a Centurion, after all. “I normally don’t mind a girl begging, but this is entirely the wrong situation and place,” he said with a flirty wink, patting your shoulder comfortingly as the meaning of his words sunk in. You felt heat rise to your cheeks and fumbled for an appropriate response. 

However, Anthony powered on. “Now, the man you’ll be taking care of is a bit of a loner. He’ll spend most of his day in his room or in the city, leaving you to cook, clean, whatever else it is that servants do,” Anthony said, turning on his heel to walk further into the opulent house. Although you knew his station, he still managed to look out of place in the sparkling marble home in his casual chilton. You wondered why he wasn’t wearing a toga. A man of his station probably had the money and power to own dozens.

You started when Edwin Jarvis touched your arm gently, gaze flying to his face. He motioned you to follow Centurion Anthony with a kind smile and wave of his hand and you gulped and trotted after him, taking in the house as you went. It was opulent and kept so nicely it was as though actual people didn’t live there. You suspected it was Jarvis’ diligence that kept the house in such sparkling order and you hoped, fleetingly, that you’d be able to do the same. Statues, vases, and plants lined the halls and hid in alcoves and you half expected to see a grand fountain when you turned each corner. The sound of the Centurion’s quick-talking tour caught your attention and you chided yourself mentally. For all you knew he could have let slip important information while you’d been admiring masonry. 

“You’ll have your own room. It’s Jarvis’ old room. Not as big as the master suites, but probably bigger than anything you’ve lived in before today.” 

“Today?” you asked, surprised. 

Anthony glanced at you over his shoulder. “What, is that too soon?” he turned to Edwin. “Is that too soon?” he asked skeptically, crossing his arms over his chest, eyebrow raised.

Jarvis shook his head. “We specifically asked for someone who could begin immediately.” 

You gulped. You’d missed that part on the scroll, apparently. You supposed you shouldn’t complain.; it meant you could start gathering intelligence at once. 

“Well, you heard the man. Today!” Anthony said, pacified, resuming his tour down a plush-carpeted hallway. “This is his room. I would take you inside but he has a strict ‘No Tony In My Room’ policy. I tried sneaking in once or twice but he always seemed to know when I did. He had no problem with Jarvis, though.”

“That is because I am supposed to be in there, sir,” Jarvis said quietly. “And also because you snoop through his things,” he added matter-of-factly. You tried to not let those implications unnerve you.

Anthony shrugged. “I’ve served with that man for years and he’s still a mystery. I can’t help that I’m naturally curious. It’s one of my many, many charms.”

“Quite right, sir,” Edwin said with a sort of dry placating smile that somehow morphed the genial statement into a sarcastic rebuke. You had to bite back a grin and Anthony huffed discontentedly at Jarvis before turning his attention to the next room on his impromptu tour. A somewhat subdued dark wood door gave you a guess at its purpose before Tony even opened his mouth.

“This is your room. Dining room is at the end of the hall. Kitchen is in a sub-level attached at the other end of the room. There’s a back door to the alley so you can bring in food and supplies without dragging them through the magnificent entrance hall.”

_That will be good for sneaking in and out when needed,_ you thought to yourself. “The house is stunning, sir. What will my responsibilities be, exactly?” you asked, turning a sun-bright smile on Anthony.

“Cleaning, cooking, errands… Jarvis knows better what that sad sack’s needs are. I mostly knock down his door once a week and force him to drink until one of us passes out.”

“You are always the one to pass out first, sir,” Jarvis chimed in helpfully, kind smile on his face. 

“She doesn’t need to know that, Jarvis,” Anthony said, scandalized, clapping his hands over your ears. You willed yourself not to flinch or react too strangely, which was more difficult than you might have imagined. 

“I can still hear you, sir,” you said, peering up at him from between his hands. 

Anthony rolled his eyes, but finally let your head go, hands once again flying through the air as he talked. “Point is, Jarvis is the one to talk to for details. I’m just happy if you manage to keep the house standing and that idiot fed.” 

“I’ve compiled a list of his various… needs and… irregularities,” Jarvis said carefully. You had a sneaking suspicion that this mystery man was odder and more reclusive than you’d originally been lead to believe. If it got you an in with the Roman military, however, he could do or be whatever he liked… though you drew the line at cannibalism. “He’s truly a quiet man and I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t see him often. I find it easiest to clean his room whenever he’s out. He never takes his meals in the dining room- always in his own bedroom. Although that may have been because Anthony eats in the dining room and he simply wished to avoid him.”

Anthony clutched a hand to his chest with a dramatic flourish. “You wound me, Jarvis. I’m delightful company.” 

Jarvis sent him one of those smiles that was so heavily laced with dry sarcasm that you knew immediately anything he was about to say would be a playful jest at Anthony. “I don’t believe I ever said you weren’t, sir.”

Anthony sighed and turned his full attention to you. “You can start immediately, right?” 

You nodded quickly, just trying to keep up with his unusually fast-paced talking. 

“Do you want the position?” he asked, as though he was asking if you liked the weather and not asking for a position under a _Centurion_. 

“I’d be honored, sir,” you said as earnestly as you could manage. It must have come off unquestionably sincere because Anthony smiled broadly. “Good, good. Jarvis can have all of your possessions moved into the manor by sundown and-”

“I only have one bag. I can manage, but thank you, sir.” Like hell you’d let them touch your things. You’d been careful so far and didn’t leave any clues to your true identity, but you sure weren’t going to take any risks. 

“One bag? … _How?_ ” Anthony asked, as though the very thought couldn’t compute. You supposed if you lived like this living out of a single rucksack would seem impossible to you, too. 

“I grew up on the outskirts of town. I’ve never had much to my name, but my mother insisted I learn my letters and some math, too. Said it would help me one day,” you said with a shy smile. That much wasn’t a lie. 

Anthony nodded knowingly. “Smart mother. It’ll definitely come in handy. You’ll be communicating primarily through notes, more than likely. He isn’t much for talking face to face.” 

Yet again the man’s habits seemed odd, but he was a Centurion. He had information your people needed to survive the war. You would happily bear any oddities short of explicit threats on your life (you weren’t good to your people dead).

Still, it was a tense nervousness that you couldn’t quite quell that led you to ask, “Is he kind?”

Anthony’s smile was softer than you’d seen it thus far and that alone eased some of your fears. “Yes, but he’d swear to Rome and back that he’s not. Worry not, he’ll treat you well.” 

You let out a relieved sigh, heat rising to your cheeks when it was more audible than you’d expected it to be and both Jarvis and Anthony sent you smiles (Edwin’s was understanding, Anthony’s teasing).

Anthony fished around in his robe blindly for a moment before he pulled out a very nice, ornate key, and tossed it to you. You nearly fumbled it, but manage to keep hold of it by the tips of your fingers. 

“Alright, you’re hired. I’m paying you, but you’ll do what he asks… although cleaning the house and feeding him is mandatory. Everything else will be in Jarvis’ instructions. Have a good one, little lady. Don’t piss off the big guy or I’ll have to kill you.” When you turned wide, horrified eyes on him he burst out laughing. Behind you, Jarvis let out a long resigned sigh. “Kidding, kidding. But if you’re horribly incompetent, I _will_ relieve you of your post.”

You gulped, body still humming with adrenaline from the [fake] threat a moment ago. “Understood, sir.” 

With that, Anthony and Jarvis headed for the door, the latter giving you a shallow bow before he glided off after his master. 

You heard the front door slam shut with a resounding thud and you nearly sunk to the floor. 

This was it. This was everything your people needed. At long last, you could help them. You stared down at the key in your hand before your fingers closed around it in a fist, eyes blazing with determination. 

Step one: Move in to this stupidly-nice house.

Step two: Dismantle the Roman Empire.

* * *

**Bucky’s POV**

[Originally posted by rohgers](https://tmblr.co/Z5pd8h2DE1No6)

With an annoyed huff, Bucky finally gave up his search for the day. He hadn’t seen heads or tails of the girl in at least a week. Whether it was by chance or something more sinister, he couldn’t determine. The Visigothi were making more and more noise in the west. Stark was already being called to the palace. Apparently Pierce was eager to use Anthony’s brilliant mind to develop new and deadly weapons. 

He kicked loose stones all the way back to his- well, Anthony’s- manor, eyes glued to the ground. Something about the entire thing just didn’t sit right with him. 

He found himself in front of the front door before he knew it, only realizing he’d stopped walking a few beats after his feet had ceased moving. With a whispered curse he yanked on the door handle, only to find it was locked. 

That was odd. Jarvis never locked the door until he returned-

Oh, right. He and Tony were leaving and had been determined to find someone to take care of him and the house in their stead as though he was an invalid. 

But then he remembered the state his room was in before he moved in with Tony and Jarvis and realized they probably weren’t too far off in the assessment of his self-care abilities.

The door was locked, which meant they’d found someone. He had half a mind to bang on the door until they woke up, but thought better of it. It was late and he didn’t fancy waking up the entire neighborhood.

He dug around in his tunic for a moment or two before pulling out the house key (he was suddenly thankful he didn’t go anywhere without it) and shoved it in the lock. 

The door opened silently, as always, revealing the surprisingly well-lit interior. They may have locked the door, but they at least had the sense to leave a light or two on for him. He grabbed the nearest lamp and headed to his room, pausing at the writing desk in the hallway. 

He could just go to bed, but he knew he’d just ignore whoever they’d hired tomorrow; he didn’t have the patience or temperament for people anymore. The least he could do was leave a note welcoming them to his home. 

He sauntered over to the table and set the lamp down, uncorking the ink well and grabbing the nearest quill and piece of thick parchment. 

> Greetings,
> 
> The silence in the house leads me to believe I’ve returned after you’ve already retired to your room, but it would be ill-mannered of me to not greet you in some way. I’m afraid I spend most of my time in my room or in the city, so it may be some time before I see you in person. 
> 
> Regardless, thank you for assuming the monumental task of taking care of this house… and of me. I would tell you what I expect of you, but I’m sure Edwin Jarvis has already fully briefed you on any and all expectations. Still, if you have any questions, you need only ask… preferably through notes, as I’m afraid I’m of little use around people unless I’m giving commands on the battlefield. 
> 
> Still, I would like to know a bit about you, if you would not be opposed. I’m afraid I don’t even know your name yet, as Centurion Stark tells me little. 
> 
> With kind regards,
> 
> B

Satisfied, Bucky left the note in front of the servant room’s door before shuffling like the dead to his room, collapsing onto his bed without so much as removing his sandals. 

_Tomorrow_ , he promised himself. _I’ll find her tomorrow._


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You settle in nicely, although your boss is practically a ghost. Even after working for him for weeks, you haven’t seen him once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Centurion!Bucky x Visigothi!Reader  
> Warnings: Sexism, mild violence  
> Cassia is your alias. ****

 

[Originally posted by daydreamsandsmoothies](https://tmblr.co/Zh7w0j27Frv0s)

_Satisfied, Bucky left the note in front of the servant room’s door before shuffling like the dead to his room, collapsing onto his bed without so much as removing his sandals.  
_

_**Tomorrow** , he promised himself. **I’ll find her tomorrow.**_

* * *

To your surprise, working at the estate wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. You were no stranger to housework and, although the house was bigger than anything you’d ever lived in before, it was surprisingly easy to clean. 

You had a fairly typical routine. You’d wake up before the sun rose and head down to the markets. You had a frankly gratuitous amount of money to spend thanks to your new employer; this wasn’t even your pay, just money he gave you to purchase food and other items you might need for the house. 

It was ridiculous.

But it meant you could buy fresh bread and fruit. Even meat, sometimes, if the butcher had anything. In the capital it was almost like there wasn’t a famine ravaging the hillsides. Emperor Pierce did everything to make sure _his_ people were fed… the rich ones, at least. 

After returning from the market you’d cook breakfast, leave B’s share outside his door, then eat whatever was left over. After that you’d clean, starting with the kitchen then moving to the other parts of the house; your room the library, the stables out back, the garden, the entryway, the halls… then, finally, B’s room. 

You’d been nervous at first that he’d be in there, but it became clear pretty soon that he stayed out nearly all day and sometimes some of the night. You didn’t know how he managed to sneak out every single time after eating breakfast, but it had been two weeks and you hadn’t seen heads or tails of him. 

It was like serving a ghost.

It wasn’t as though you never heard from him, though. He left letters for you almost daily. Each one was similarly kind, soft spoken, and a tinge witty. He asked you polite questions that you nervously responded to and asked a few of your own, often feeling embarrassed and pleased at his responses. 

Liking the Centurion you needed to spy on hadn’t been part of the plan, but here you were, re-reading his letters again and again like a lovesick child. 

_I’m sorry I was gone all day again today. It’s truly improper of me to not have introduced myself in person by now. You’ve done a wonderful job of taking care of the house… I think you could give Jarvis a run for his money (though please don’t tell him I said that, he’d never let me live it down). Breakfast was delicious. Thank you.  
-B_

_Please don’t worry. I know you’re very busy. I won’t let Edwin know what you said. I fear he’d take it as a personal insult._  
Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you, please.  
-Cassia

 

_I’m horrible. I really am on very important business, or I would be home at decent hours. Please don’t wait up for me. I could not stand the thought of thrusting my burdens on your shoulders in any way. Allow me to make it up to you by giving you a tour of the palace one day? You said you always wanted to see it in person in your last letter. It’s the least I can do.  
-B_

 

_You’re too kind, sir, but I dare not soil that sacred place with my presence. It is for people greater than I to visit._  
Also, I won’t wait up, but perhaps I can leave dinner out for you to eat? Something that won’t spoil easily?   
Please don’t be stressed about staying out, either. I trust that you are not simply avoiding me.   
-Cassia  
P.S. What does the “B” stand for?

_I’m a fool. I can’t believe I never wrote my name out. Why did you let me sign “B” for weeks and just accept it? Sorry, no, that’s unfair. You’re not exactly in a position to demand things from me. That was selfish of me to say. I thought Tony had told you my full name so I didn’t even think about signing B._  
Barnes. You can call me Barnes.   
Also, yes. Dinner sounds good.  
-Barnes

 

You knew that name. _Everyone_ knew that name. It was the name of the Dread Centurion, the man as cold as winter and so deadly he was rumored to not exist at all. He started life out in the coliseum of Rome and, when he managed to stay defending champion after an entire year, Pierce conscripted him specifically for his army. He didn’t command troops as often as other Centurions did, but Romans and outsiders alike feared his name.

Was this the same Barnes? It didn’t seem possible. The man you’d been communicating with for weeks was almost shy and unmistakably kind. Nothing like the rumors. 

Maybe you had the wrong man?

 

_I’m glad I have a name to attach to the script, Centurion Barnes._  
Perhaps one day soon I’ll have a face to put to the name?   
I jest, sir. It’s actually easier to clean the house without you about. Feel no rush to return home hastily.  
-Cassia

_Just Barnes is fine, Cassia. I don’t much like my title anyway._  
Perhaps I should just stay away altogether, then? Give you more time with the company you bring home while I’m out?  
-Barnes

 

_No! That’s not what I meant. I don’t bring anyone home! That would be a breach of your trust! Please believe me!_  
Also, I’d be saddened if I didn’t receive your letters anymore.   
-Cassia

_Oh my, it seems my jest was taken to heart. I’m sorry, I don’t make jokes very often anymore. I’m afraid I’ve lost the knack I had for them. I have no doubt you’ve not brought anyone home. I would have noticed._  
Additionally, I’ve come to very much enjoy our letters back and forth and would miss them, too.  
-Barnes

 

Those were the most personable letters, though he managed to slip small flirtations in here and there between comments on the food and state of the house. You talked about the city on occasion. He gave you the locations of different shops that you never would have found on your own. You learned at least ten new recipes that earned you rave reviews from the reclusive man.

Whenever you cleaned his room you’d check for any documents that could give you a clue as to the Roman’s war plans, but never wanted to move things around. If there was one thing you were sure of it was that he really could tell if anyone had touched anything in his room that they weren’t supposed to.

Still, the things he left out were few and far between and helped little in the way of gathering intelligence for your people. At some point you’d have to search his things and hope for the best. 

A lucky break came two and a half weeks after you moved into the manor. A courier arrived in the middle of the day just after you finished hanging the laundry out to dry. Barnes received mail sometimes while he was away, but to your surprise this specific letter was addressed to you.

For a split second you were worried one of your people had been stupid enough to send you a letter, but you quickly recognized the handwriting as Barnes’. 

You thanked the courier who quickly scampered away down the frozen street and ripped into the letter, the door shutting heavily behind you. 

Your eyes scanned the letter quickly, your heart rate picking up with each word. 

_Cassia,_  
I know you said you didn’t think you were fit to step foot in the palace (which is absurd, just so you know. You’re a better person than nearly all the people here), but I’m afraid I must ask a favor of you. I left some important documents in my room that I’ll require later today, but I haven’t the time to go back and retrieve them. I don’t trust anyone else to go searching through my room. Would you please bring them to the palace for me? They’re in the bottom right drawer of my desk. It has a keyhole but it’s not locked, worry not. You can use my satchel to carry them.   
Also, take my sigil with you. Show it to anyone who would try to stop or hurt you. I don’t much appreciate my reputation most days, but if it can protect you then I suppose it’s not all bad. It will also give you access to the palace.   
I know this is a lot to ask of you. I’m sorry. Please hurry.  
-Barnes

You stared at the letter and read it over two more times, just to make sure your eyes weren’t fooling you. This was everything you needed and more. A centurion’s important documents that would be needed for a meeting at the palace? He was essentially handing them to you. You wouldn’t even have to sneak around to get a peek at them. 

Not believing your luck you ran to your room and shirked your cleaning clothes for the nicest outfit you had and practically flew to Barnes’ room. You grabbed the satchel off the wall and trotted excitedly over to his desk, immediately opening the bottom right drawer and pulling out the thick stack of parchments. 

You carefully kept them in order as you flicked through them, hardly daring to believe your eyes. Battle plans. Formations. Maps of the countryside. Weapon stores. Resource tallies. 

This was the entire Roman army in a pile of paper. 

Barnes trusted you with these.

And you would betray that trust. 

The thought made your stomach turn uncomfortably, but when you imagined the looks on your people’s faces as they sold their children and loves ones into slavery… you found the will to steel yourself, commit as much as you could to memory (you wouldn’t leave written proof of your duplicity), and shoved them resolutely into the bag. 

Right before you turned to leave, something shiny caught the light and you found your attention drawn to it. A small metal kite shield no bigger than your palm with ornately carved edges and a blood red star in the middle sat on the dark wood desk.

Barnes’ sigil.

You shoved it in the bag next to the papers then turned and stalked out of the room.

You blew out every lamp but the one attached to the outside of the doorway as you bustled your way outside. You squinted at the sun high in the sky; it must have been getting close to midday, judging by its position. With one last look at the bag slung over your shoulder, you speed-walked your way to the palace as nonchalantly as you could. 

* * *

It was _cold_. You wished fervently that your robe had at least 5 more layers and that you were wearing boots instead of sandals. Roman fashion was stupid. You may have been from the north, but an entire spring, summer, and fall had made you too accustomed to weather in the Empire.

You wobbled up the steps and were both annoyed and unsurprised when the guard at the top of the stairs stopped you. “What business have you here, woman?” he asked, glaring down his nose at you. 

You rummaged around in your bag and pulled out Barnes’ sigil, smiling smugly when the guard visibly paled. “I’m here to deliver something important to Centurion Barnes. Where is he?” you asked, all sly sugary sweetness. 

The guard stood up just a little straighter. “I don’t rightly know, miss. He’s been in and out of meeting with Emperor Pierce and the other Centurions for hours now. The war room is two doors down on the right side, but women aren’t allowed in there. You may have to wait if they’re in session.” 

_Hell, they’re already planning. I pray my people are ready._

You glared at him. “I hope I won’t have to wait long. I don’t think Centurion Barnes would like being kept waiting because you couldn’t tell me of his location.”

The guard nearly quailed under the implied threat as he yanked open the tall door. “Go ahead, miss. I would help you more but I don’t know where he is. Swear on my life.” 

You glared at him once more before you brushed past him and into the palace, trying not to gawk too much at the beautifully decorated interior. If it was stunning on the outside it was downright breathtaking on the inside. 

You must have gotten too distracted because when you looked up you realized you’d wandered into a hallway and when you turned back around you could no longer see the grand entryway you’d come in from. 

You bit your lip nervously. “Well, here goes nothing,” you whispered, pushing open the nearest door to you. It occurred to you fleetingly that you had no idea what Barnes looked like. For all the rumor about him, very little information remained on him besides his alleged body count and ruthless efficiency. 

The room was empty and the door was mercilessly silent as it swung open. 

“Hello?” you asked tentatively, just in case. 

When you didn’t get a response you took a few steps forward and froze when you realized what you’d walked in on. 

There, on the large silk-laden table in front of you, was a map of the Roman Empire and surrounding lands. Thanks to Natalia and Clinton’s lessons, you were able to read the military pieces at a glance. You could see where they were amassing to attack your people. Where their generals were. Where there reserves were. How many they’d have left to guard the capital. The papers in your bag hinted at this, but this was proof. Their attack wasn’t that far off, though you could tell this was still in the planning stages. More than likely, the bulk of their force was still in the capital. 

You took a few more steps forward, eyes glued to the display in front of you as you drank in as much information as you could. 

You didn’t hear someone else come in the room. 

You did, however, feel when they grabbed you by the shoulder and flung you around until you faced them. 

“What the hell are you doing in here, woman? Who let you in?” he spat, his face contorted with fury. His dark brown eyes looked murderous and you knew at once you were dead. You wouldn’t make it out of this alive. “Speak!” he roared, lifting you by the neck and throwing you out the door like you were a rag doll. 

It was a small miracle he didn’t break your neck and that you didn’t lose consciousness upon hitting the cold marble floor, but your body was still reeling and all you could do was gasp for air through your bruised throat as he stalked towards you. “I should kill you where you stand! Who sent you, witch?” he bellowed, booted foot coming to rest on your stomach, pinning you helplessly to the ground. 

All that training with Natalia and what good did it do you?

He reached down and yanked the bag off of you, ripping the strap and leaving bruises as it pulled against your body. It only took one glance inside to see you were carrying sensitive documents. 

Your fate was sealed. This man would be your executioner, no deliberation needed. 

He pulled out Barnes’ sigil and stared at it for only a second before he returned his attention to you. 

“You dare try to steal secrets of the Roman Empire?” He slid is sword from its sheath and leveled it at your face. “The punishment for that is death! By the name of Emperor Alexander Pierce, I-”

“What on earth is going on out here?” came a new voice from a door down the hall. Your attacker turned his attention to the newcomer, frown not budging at all. 

You froze, however, hardly daring to believe your ears. You knew that voice. 

You turned your head as best you could in your position and laid eyes on none other than James. 

_Oh god, what is he doing here?_

_Please help me.  
_

_Why are you wearing military clothing?_

_Why isn’t this man shaking his sword at you, too?_

_Please help me.  
_

_I’m who you think I am, but I don’t want to die.  
_

_I’ll run away from this god-forsaken city and never look back.  
_

_Just._

_**Please** save me. _

All those thoughts and more were written across your face and in your eyes as you stared into James’ ice blue eyes.

Your attacked spoke up before either of you could. He held up Barnes’ sigil and motioned to you with it then to James. “Why does she have your sigil, Barnes?” he said, deadly calm. 

And all at once your thoughts came grinding to a halt. 

_Wait, **what**? _

* * *

**Bucky’s POV**

His first thought was _I found her! The woman!_

But then he saw his satchel in Valens’ hands along with his sigil, and the pieces clicked together instantly. 

Cassia. You were Cassia. Probably had been all along. How else could you have stayed hidden the whole time? You were in the one place he didn’t think to look for you: his own home. 

But now the situation was pointed south for both of you. If you came forth as a spy now, he would be incriminated along with you. You had his papers and his sigil. Even one of the imbecilic city guard could put that together. 

No, his fate was sealed to yours now. Pierce trusted Valens too much to dismiss his words amidst the proof Valens had. 

So now he had to make sure both of you got away with your heads still attached to your shoulders. 

“Why does she have your sigil, Barnes?” Valens asked in that calm tone that always reminded Bucky of the time just before a lightning storm. 

“Why shouldn’t my betrothed carry my sigil?” Bucky countered, staring down his nose at Valens. 

He saw you go completely still out of the corner of his eye and he willed that you wouldn’t give anything away. Both of your lives depended on it. Valens looked suddenly dubious. “Your betrothed? I’ve not heard of this, nor have I seen her before.” 

“Remove your boot, Valens,” Bucky snarled, eyes flashing dangerously. 

Valens hastened to remove his foot from your stomach and looked more unsure by the second. “Barnes-”

“I asked her to bring me my papers, Valens,” Bucky spat, stalking towards the two of you. Valens took a step back and drew himself up to his full height, though he still barely came up to Bucky’s shoulders. “And you’ve not seen her before because I don’t like to share what’s _mine_ ,” he said dangerously as he bent down to pick you up carefully. You were tense in his arms but thankfully didn’t struggle or argue with what he was saying. At least you had survival instincts. 

Though he doubted very much that you hadn’t realized by now he was much more dangerous than Valens. 

Valens looked more like a rat caught in a cage than a warrior at this point. “She said nothing about any of that, Barnes,” he said defensively. “I thought she was a spy.”

Barnes glared at him. “Get out of here, Valens, before I kill you for the slight on her honor.”

Valens’ jaw worked dangerously but eventually he turned and walked away, grumbling discontentedly the whole way. 

When it was only the two of you left in the hallway Bucky set you down perhaps a bit more harshly than he had to. “What are you doing here?” he asked, eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. 

You looked surprised and rubbed your neck tenderly. “Yes, I suppose I deserve that, don’t I? In my defense, I didn’t know you were a centurion at the time! Gods, I’m such a fool! I barely even apologized. You didn’t get hurt, did you?” you rasped, throat still sore. 

Bucky stared at you blankly for a moment, brain struggling to register what you were saying. “What… are you talking about?” he hissed, confusion lining his features.

You looked nervous and shifted from foot to foot. “When I ran into you all those weeks ago in pursuit of a thief… Centurion Barnes, sir,” you said as though you suddenly realized you were in his presence. “I didn’t know I would be working for you, sir, when Centurion Stark hired me. I never did catch your name, exactly, and, well…”

“You haven’t seen me,” Bucky said flatly, hardly daring to believe what was happening. The woman he’d been searching for all along was sleeping two doors down from him. Cooking him breakfast in the morning. Cleaning his house. Gods, washing his underclothes. 

And she was a spy. He was sure of it, no matter how convincing a fool she played. He knew of the Gothi’s tricks.

But he could no longer let you go free. Not with the information you’d gleaned from his work and the war table. The war would be over before it began. 

So it was better to go with the lie. He had to keep an eye on you all the time, and what better way than…

“Marry me,” he said, turning his sun-bright smile on you- the one he hadn’t used since before he was sent to Rome.

“What?” you squawked, eyes almost bugging out of your head. The sight would have made him laugh under normal conditions.

“You heard me,” he said, smirking playfully at you. 

He watched as you deliberated and tried to find any way to work your way out of it. “But… we hardly know each other,” you said hoarsely. 

“And if we do not marry Valens will tell the Emperor what he saw here today and we will both be executed for treason,” he said calmly. You stared up at him, shocked, but he continued with a smile. “I’ve been looking for you every day, you know. Ever since you knocked me over. It’s what I’ve been doing night and day. Looking for the woman who quite literally swept me off my feet.” It wasn’t a total lie, but he’d been searching for you for much, much longer than that. 

You looked away in embarrassment and if he wasn’t mistaken a pleased smile had worked its way onto your lips. 

Bucky wondered if it was real. 

“I don’t even know your first name,” you whispered shyly. 

_Yes you do,_ he thought to himself. “James,” he said with a smile. 

You finally looked up at him and Bucky felt his heart skip a beat. Faked or no, you looked so cute just then he could barely handle it. “Then yes, James Barnes. I’d like very much to marry you.”


End file.
